Schooled  ALTERNATE ENDING
by WyrdSmith
Summary: To understand this, first read "Schooled." This story is an alternate ending, which is explained in the AN here as well as Ch8 of "Schooled." 1945 mashup of characters, with a touch of Sherlock Holmes for good measure. HP/TMR


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**SCHOOLED – ALTERNATE ENDING**

A/N: **SEE CH 8 & 9 AUTHOR NOTE TO UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT. IT IS AN **_**ALTERNATE ENDING**_**, FOLKS!**

This is the remainder of the original version of Chapter 9 (see "Schooled" by WyrdSmith). I wrote the whole, complete chapter long ago, when "Schooled" was going to be either a series of stand-alones or a much shorter, multi-chapter fic.

This is posted as a stand-alone Alternate Ending to "Schooled", assuming that I was to end this story immediately after Chapter 8. Please keep in mind that, even as an _alternative ending_, there may be a major spoiler for one of the elements I am bringing to the longer, original story in the future. I don't think it will disrupt your enjoyment of the original, because I have faith in my ability to keep my stories reasonably original and interesting, but if you don't want the know the spoiler, STOP NOW. (Although, honestly, I think it's pretty obvious if you read "Interlewd-i-Two'd".)

I did worry that those who aren't signed up for an author alert on me might miss this and any other separately posted stories for my "Schooled" series. I'll try to point out any future instances in the A/N's, but if you prefer to not have an author alert, please check my page occasionally for new stuff.

I've given the endings of Chapters 6, 7 and 9 below, to put your minds on the right track. (8 is all f-d up; there's an explanatory note there if you want it. Enjoy.

Blessed Be, and Happy Reading!

WyrdSmith

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**AND End of Ch6 – SCHOOLED – COCKBLOCKERY**

Long minutes later, as gasps slowed to pants and finally steady breathing, and as thundering heartbeats and straining muscles relaxed and settled, Hadrian drew back to look somewhat dazedly at the devastatingly masculine, handsome, crimson-eyed wizard who continued to hold him while remaining sheathed within Hadrian's body. Aiming a weak, half-hearted glare up at the man who simply nuzzled him contentedly, Hadrian had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. "You tricked me!" he accused somewhat faintly.

Marvolo stared down into the glowing, beautiful face of his true Consort and purred dangerously, "Yes. Yes, I did. However shall I make it up to you, my love?" Knowing, red eyes gleamed with wicked intent, as, impossibly, arousal once again coiled and murmured within Hadrian's body.

Fortunately, words were unnecessary, as was evident by Marvolo's immediate, fierce response to his little lover's whimper of need.

Although, Hadrian tried to convince himself it was a profound roar of demand. Sending his tongue questing deep within the tempting mouth that opened eagerly beneath his own, Marvolo smiled to himself and allowed his Consort his illusions.

Anything to make Hadrian happy.

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**From Ch 7 – SCHOOLED – SCREWED**

He did not see the incredulous looks aimed at him by Flint and the aurors, as he was lost in thought, thinking of another pair of boys, long ago, when he was simply Albus, and he misunderstood the innocent flirting of a golden-haired boy named Gellert.

Behind him, Phineas offered a succinct summary. "Cormac, you deserve everything that's coming. Straighten up and act like a man. As for you, Albus – pardon my vulgarity, gentleman – you either have a screw loose, as the muggles say, or you're just, plain screwed**."**

Moody's snort as he released the barmy old git from the cuffs was agreement enough.

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**CH 8: End of SCHOOLED – INTERLEWD-I-TWO'D**

He did not take offense at her wordless nod, seeming to understand that she had pushed herself well beyond her limits and needed some time to regroup. Hadrian, always observant and gentle with those he cared for, just smiled at his little elf and – after assuring her that they would attend lunch in the Great Hall - quietly bade her to go get some time to herself. Just before she popped out, he hastily added, "And Tansy? The second Dumbledore leaves his office, I want you to retrieve his house elf and bring him – or her – to see Cherish or Poppy Pomfrey. Tell them that I asked as a personal favor for them to treat the elf without letting Dumbledore know. Can you do that?"

Her look of adoration made him very uncomfortable, and he could not help but be relieved when she popped out of the room. Marvolo's understanding chuckle made him feel a bit better, but the warm, strong arm that wrapped around his shoulders and urged him toward the door sealed the deal. At the last minute, Hadrian snatched up the Cloak, folding it and tucking it into his robe next to his wand. He simply shrugged at Marvolo's quizzically raised eyebrow, not sure himself why he did half of the things he had done over the past two days. All he could offer in his own defense was, "I blame you."

He accepted the amused smile and the kiss pressed into his temple as reasonable compensation for his confusion.

Not that he would have turned them away, regardless of imagined obligation. He was confused, not stupid.

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**SCHOOLED – ALTERNATIVE ENDING**

On the long walk to the Great Hall, Hadrian again drifted into the deep, quiet part of his mind where his deductive and inductive reasoning became instinctive. He summoned into this dark, quiet part of his mind four simple images – his Cloak, Marvolo's ring, a runic triangle, and a runic circle. He allowed the rhythm of their steps to mark time in his mind like a metronome, and cycled the images over and over with each steady beat.

Halfway to the great hall, his remarkable mind summoned for his evaluation the image of the triangle and circle imposed upon each other. Within seconds, he had added a mental line to the picture and called forth the fairy tale of the Deathly Hallows, and the brothers who challenged Death.

100 feet from the Great Hall, he had already accepted the possibility – or at least, the Theory of Coincidence – that his Cloak was THE cloak, and Marvolo's ring held THE stone. If this is A, and this is B, then where is C? If A, B and C are present, devise a logical conclusion.

Really, it was pure logic that showed him the possible outcomes and helped him to select the one most desirable for his interests. Hadrian was a reasonably nice Slytherin, but a Slytherin all the same. Ambition and power were nourishment for a Hogwarts Snake. Especially for the Consort to 'Lord Snake'. The only one who might be even more driven than Hadrian was Marvolo.

'How perfect,' he purred mentally, taking Marvolo's hand in his own and sending a sly, mischievous glance and a sideways smile up to the slightly stunned-looking Lord of Slytherin. Letting his thumb rub gently against the large, warm hand that held his own like a priceless gift, Hadrian's breathing increased slightly at the subtle but clear signs of his lover's resurging arousal. 'Even better,' his wicked inner-self snickered, busily sorting through options and possibilities, and slowly arriving at the best possible plan.

It required that the element of surprise, however, and – given the nature of this 'summons' by Dumbledore – the perfect opportunity … was now. 'So be it,' he thought gleefully. 'Time to prove that the Hat (and Marvolo) knew what they were doing.'

20 feet from the Great Hall, he had finalized his conclusions, based on the story Sherlock had told him from his treasure hunting friend, that the mythical Elder Wand, if it existed, would not be particularly imposing. Like the simple wooden cup that was the true magical chalice, the Elder Wand would fit the time and place it was created, not the grand visions of glory-seeking wizards. Therefore, it would be simple … natural … possibly even a branch or a twig of some sort …. And, given those parameters, it only took a minor synaptic connection between Hadrian's prodigious memory and his remarkable intellect to identify the last piece of the puzzle.

Walking into the Great Hall hand in hand with Marvolo Slytherin caused a wave of reaction among the lunching students and the surprised staff. At the Slytherin table, satisfied looks and even a few, happy smiles were to be seen. Gryffindors Neville Longbottom and, surprisingly, Lavender Brown both seemed genuinely pleased. Ravenclaws were interested and nonjudgmental, for the most part, although a few aimed jealous looks at Hadrian or looks of resentful envy at Marvolo. Hufflepuffs were mostly looking around in bewilderment, wondering what the sudden wave of tension was about.

The Gryffindors, with the exceptions of Neville and Lavender, quickly overcame their stunned silence and began to erupt in condemnatory accusations of pandering, whoring, sluttish usury, and – for the professor – abuse of authority and sexual misconduct. They ignored the hundreds of looks of scorn and disdain aimed at them from around the large room and continued to get louder and more rowdy, slowly whipped into a frenzy by – who else? – James Potter. Despite Potter's urging of his best friend and longtime number one part-in-crime, Sirius Black sat silently next to him, tightlipped and narrow-eyed, but in no way contributing to the general mayhem that ran rampant among the Lions.

Most of the Hufflepuffs had already lost the plot. Within ten minutes, they were likely to need hand-drawn diagrams to understand what had occurred.

At the Head Table, Professors Malfoy, Prince, Sinestra and Flitwick were smiling widely, their happiness for the new couple evident and unapologetic. Professor McGonogall wore a look of curiosity, but no other evidence of her approval or disapproval was evident.

Dumbledore was speechless.

Had those in the room been able to hear the old wizard's thoughts, they would have been privy to a confused, rushing jumble of anger and anxiety that was mostly voiced mentally with outburst of 'how dare they?' and 'this cannot happen!' and 'No! Founders Heirs for three houses, together! I will not allow it!' and a frantic repetition of gibbering that essentially broke down into the whining wail of a petulant child about to be deprived of sweets and punished for behaving badly.

At least the last bit was probably accurate.

At the door, Hadrian grinned impishly up at his crimson-eyed love and tugged the handsome face down to his own. "I'm going to talk to Neville for a moment. Stay here? I'll be right back, promise." Pressing his lips daringly to Marvolo's, he returned his lover's smirk and sauntered off to visit his brother.

Marvolo resisted the urge to stalk to Hadrian's defense when the Gryffindors' noise level and wild gesticulations began to look like an oncoming riot. He only resisted because he had seen, once again, that look in the brilliant, incredibly cunning little Consort's eyes that indicated he was in the process of managing another of his delightful machinations. Marvolo's ability to wait calmly was greatly enhanced by the distraction of the intentional, swaying walk and seductive wiggle of his little love. Feeling the profound, nearly-painful stiffening of the erection that had already sprung to life at the first sign of Hadrian's plotting, Marvolo stoically refused to shift his robes, choosing instead to stand unapologetically in the crowded Great Hall with his arms folded, feet a comfortable distance apart, and erection proudly evident to any who cared to see.

Which was pretty much everyone in the room. More than one person in the Great Hall gained a sudden appreciation for the clingy-nature of the silk-blend fabrics Professor Slytherin preferred for his trousers.

Crimson eyes narrowed in a genial threat as his adorable little mischief-maker bent over slightly to talk to Neville, nicely displaying his delectable little ass for Marvolo's viewing pleasure. Any thought that Hadrian was innocent to own flirtatious behavior was ruined by the laughing wink over his shoulder back at Marvolo, butt wiggling just enough to cause the fabric of Marvolo's trousers to strain dangerously. He chose to ignore the laughter of his two oldest friends up at the Head Table, remaining focused on the minx who was roughly half a minute away from being thrown over Marvolo's shoulder and carried back to bed.

It was then, rising above the crowd with malicious fervency, that James Potter made the next incredibly stupid decision of his life with the words he was lucky to live to regret. "So the slut, bastard orphan finally bought himself some protection! I guess the rumors that Slytherin was picky are a lie; because if he plugged your ass, he wasn't even getting sloppy seconds! Hey, Hadrian, my father said your asshole is probably permanently stretched by all the muggles who had you over the years! Bet that's why you've got such a big mouth, too, eh, cousin? Looks like I was right all along – **Professor Slytherin **_**really does fuck snakes**_!"

The only surprise to anyone in the Great Hall, concerning the speed and force at which Professor Slytherin began to cast a vicious string of dark curses at James Potter, was the fact that Hadrian Morgan had turned, not toward Potter or Slytherin when the insults and curses started flying. Instead, the oddly bright-eyed new Slytherin Consort had turned with ready wand and an expectant look to stare at Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster, oblivious to the boy's bizarre behavior, whipped out his wand to cast a shield over James Potter. He was left clutching air, however, as the very instant his wand emerged from the hideous robes he wore today, Hadrian Morgan had cast a powerful _expelliarmus_. Within seconds, the Slytherin Consort was tightly holding Dumbledore's purloined wand, an oddly-natural looking wand that would have been easily lost if placed in a natural setting, such as a forest, or by a stream.

The bewildered Headmaster took several more second to understand that his wand was missing and who had it. By then, he was already confined in a full body bind by – shockingly – Healer Cherish Pomfrey. She would later explain that she had just treated a badly abused house elf and had gone to report the abuse. She arrived in the Great Hall to see a furious Dumbledore aim his wand at the Gryffindor table and begin to cast. She had acted to protect the children and did not regret it.

No one challenged her story, as no one with any sense of self-preservation ever argues with a protective Healer.

Marvolo had cast a protective shield over Hadrian the second his Consort had summoned Dumbledore's wand. He was beginning to reach the same conclusions his beloved had reached fully five minutes ago. He smiled proudly at his beloved Hadrian, utterly impressed at the phenomenal mind that lived behind the brilliant emerald eyes. A single look toward Tobias and Abraxas and a clear hand-signal later, all of the Slytherins had risen, wands in hand, and subdued the rioting Lions without casting a single spell. It was unnecessary; the look of deadly intent and dark delight in the eyes of the snakes as they finally had permission to point their wands at the Gryffs was enough to end the riot bloodlessly.

Well, not counting James Potter, who had been ruthlessly pummeled by at least a dozen hexes by Marvolo – and one sent under the table at James' crotch by a furious Neville Longbottom - before Dumbledore was disarmed and drew Marvolo's attention away from the screeching Lion. Sirius Black, atypically, pulled away from James when his friend tried to lean on him for help. The ugliness of his words to Hadrian had even disgusted Potter's loyal sidekick, giving the Black Heir even more to think about.

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Hadrian and Marvolo paid no attention to anyone else. They stood roughly twenty feet away from each other, and locked gazes with an intensity that could be felt by everyone in the room. Slowly, aware of an unfolding drama between the two, the Great Hall quieted and all eyes turned, once again, to watch Hadrian Morgan.

The small boy had changed dramatically over the past two or three days. Gone were the ragged clothes and the retiring demeanor. Instead, the Hadrian Morgan who stood gazing at Professor Slytherin was beautifully and expensively attired. His eyes glowed with new knowledge and a slowly-awakening awareness. His natural grace seemed to have new, sensual flavor, and his posture was elegant and confident. His flawless ivory skin was the perfect setting for the vivid eyes, black lashes and eyebrows, dark pink mouth and gently flushed cheeks. His wild black hair no longer seemed messy; now, given the chance, a fashionista might label it "untamed" or "just shagged".

Marvolo simply preferred "exquisite" to describe everything that Hadrian was. Hadrian would have said the same of Marvolo, whose powerfully-built form was beautifully displayed in the expensive clothing his lover habitually wore. Deep brown hair framed a strong, handsome face with vivid, ruby eyes that never once wavered from Hadrian. Standing confidently in the Great Hall, ignoring everyone but his Consort, Marvolo's sensual masculinity would forever be imprinted in the minds and memories of the witnesses.

In the panoramic painting on the far wall, Salazar Slytherin stood with his arms wrapped around his Consort, Henry Fitzroy. Both watched the drama occurring in the Great Hall with interest. Next to them were the distinctive figures of Dame Grenadine and Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock had courteously seated Grenadine on a lovely, light blue chair that contrasted nicely with the vivid red of her dress. He stood with his hand possessively on her shoulder, sharp eyes fixed on Hadrian and Marvolo. Despite his apparent concentration on the scene, he heard Grenadine's low whisper, "Is this what you want?" Briefly dropping his gaze to meet hers, he nodded sharply and turned back to the room. Only the other three in the painting heard his low-voiced reply. "This is acceptable. He has the blood, intellect and nature to manage it. It is the only viable solution." After a long moment of hesitation, in which he carefully studied Hadrian and Marvolo, he added slowly, "There seems to be some manner of subtext here, though. It is a logical extrapolation that Hadrian, at least, understands how to claim the Elder Wand, but the evidence suggests that both he and Marvolo have a greater plan. Still, I am content to have Hadrian as the Master of the Elder Wand. We will simply have to deduce what else these two plan, and counsel them if their actions stray toward misuse of the renowned 'death stick'."

Slightly worried but satisfied, as long as Sherlock was pleased, they held to their beloved partners and watched magical history being made.

Marvolo's heartbeat quickened at Hadrian's slow, wicked smile. His erection, which had wilted slightly when Hadrian was threatened, surged back to vibrant life. He met Hadrian's raised eyebrows and pointed glance downward with a broad, unrepentant grin and suggestively wiggled eyebrows, once again completely unembarrassed at the depths of his attraction to Hadrian Morgan. "I want you. I desire you, my Consort. I will never be ashamed of or embarrassed by how much I need your delectable body. I will never conceal my reaction to you. You are my Consort, beloved. And I … am simply … yours." His gaze was warm and steady as he reaffirmed his words from their bed this morning. Once again, Hadrian's eyes grew misty, but this time his little love blinked them away and his emerald gaze became clear and determined.

"You are mine. I am yours," Hadrian murmured warmly. He glanced quickly to ensure that Dumbledore was confined. The frantic, watery blue gaze startled a laugh out of the young man, before his sweeping green gaze confirmed that no one would interfere, although the perplexed looks repeated around the room indicated that no one understood what he and Marvolo were doing. He did suspect that a certain portrait might be watching, but had no time to look around. He rubbed his thumb gently over the tiny rune that his finger had unerringly found the second the Elder Wand snapped into his hand. Wrapping both fists side by side around the wand, he then extended his arms outward toward Marvolo. With an oddly gentle smile, Hadrian met the attentive, loving, puzzled crimson gaze and said simply, "Take it from me, Marvolo. I bet you can't."

In the painting, Sherlock drew in a shocked breath, and the last bit of worry disappeared from his eyes in a flash of elation. "Oh, brilliant, child!" he breathed reverently. "Simply, perfectly, _**brilliant**_!"

Understanding as well, the other three in the painting simply nodded, breathless at the elegance of Hadrian's solution.

Marvolo never even looked away. He simply sheathed his yew and phoenix feather wand, extended both arms to Hadrian, opened his hands in a gesture of powerful summoning, and ordered, "**Come to me.**" The power in his voice throbbed, and no one in the room was unaffected. Only the helpless Headmaster struggled; everyone else was frozen, completely focused on the events unfolding.

With every heartbeat, the power in Marvolo's summons increased. Magic sparked and wavered on the edges of the shield that still trembled around them. Hadrian's grip tightened on the wand that had begun to strain in his hands. A wild, exhilarated smile stretched his mouth wide, and his breath came in ecstatic giggles and gasps as he fought to hold on to the powerful wand that wanted him, but wanted Marvolo, whose handsome face wore a similar, slightly insane smile. As the magic increased again, both moaned slightly.

Inevitably, Hadrian's feet began to slide across the floor as the magic pull on and by the wand began to drag him across the room. A mocking trill of laughter ripped from his throat as he clung even tighter to the wand and dug his feet in, dragging himself back inch by impossible inch.

Even as he pulled back, Marvolo dragged him forward. Every centimeter was a furious battle. Every foot of lost ground was a tug of war. Hadrian's hands had begun to bleed from his unrelenting grip on the Elder Wand. Marvolo's body visibly glowed and his arms trembled with the magnitude of the magic he was using.

Slowly, painfully, inexorably, the distance was closed. Hadrian made Marvolo fight fiercely for every inch.

But finally, FINALLY, Hadrian's glaring, laughing face and freely bleeding hands were close enough. With a last, furious tug on his magic, Marvolo hauled his lover forward and seized the Elder Wand, placing his sweating, trembling hands on either side of Hadrian's bloody fists. As the two grasped the wand, a flare of magic that was unique to them all, tasting of colors and smelling of music, erupted from the wand, snapping over to the Invisibility Cloak, which emerged from Hadrian's robe and wrapped regally around his trembling shoulders. At the same time, it flared through Marvolo and twined like a snake around his Slytherin Family ring, soaking into the Resurrection Stone and bringing it a vitality that seemed utterly alive.

In the painting, Sherlock Holmes actually lost composure. He had thought the fact that Hadrian wished to share mastery of the Elder Wand was a stroke of brilliance. To now realize that the two wizards were also masters of the other Hallows – a thought that, to his everlasting chagrin, had not even entered into Sherlock's deductions – was purest genius on a level that surpassed even the capacity of the Holmes' brothers.

Lord Marvolo Slytherin and his Consort Hadrian Morgan were to be the Masters of Death.

And as the awed, bewildered students and terrified, ecstatic staff watched, the visible magic of the three Deathly Hallows merged around Marvolo and Hadrian, standing locked eye to eye, hand to hand, and rose to form a shimmering, familiar symbol of a line running through the center of and extending out the top of a circle resting within a triangle. It began to rotate, speeding beyond visible detection and looking as if the two wizards stood with a shimmering cone of magic. All sound ceased within the room. It was not the people were silent. It was that sound was not possible beneath the incredible pressure of the magic.

When the symbol stopped rotating, it had changed. Now, as it hovering shimmering in the air, everyone present that day witnessed the fact that two hands had been added to the image. Bisecting the middle of the cloak triangle, centered within the stone circle, the wand line was now secured in the grip of two hands, one coming from the left, the other from the right, joined on the runic wand with interlocking fingers.

Marvolo and Hadrian would discover later that night that the symbol was also now burned into their palms. They would learn a great deal, later. But for now, they had little thought, beyond the most expedient method to get back to bed.

And, into the shocked silence of the Great Hall, the over-ensouled portraits of Sherlock Holmes, Dame Grenadine, Salazar Slytherin and Henry Fitzroy-Slytherin had taken in the expression of sick realization of the face of James Potter, who was only now being tended for his wounds as he realized that he had owned – and lost – one of the fabled Deathly Hallows. His expression was mirrored on the wrinkled face of the unbound Albus Dumbledore, who now realized that he had been the owned – and lost -the fabled Elder Wand. The detestable fact was that each had lost the prize of many lifetimes to the cunning and treachery of the boy who they had determinedly victimized throughout his lifetime. That would be horror enough. Add in the knowledge that the scruffy, poverty-stricken boy who had no reason to feel an iota of good will – and, indeed, had every reason to feel quite vindictive - toward Dumbledore or the Potters now held the power of being one of the two, brand-new Masters of Death, the Consort of Slytherin, and (should it only be discovered) the Heir to two Founders, and James and Dumbledore were left dizzy with dread.

Now consider the fact that the boy's champion and betrothed was the Lord of Slytherin, Heir to another Founder, and the second, brand-new Master of Death. Life would never be the same again!

For that matter, neither would Death.

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**A/N2:** Yes, another one. Shut up; I'm obsessing. Just, let me know what you think but don't be pissy about the method of posting, okay? Thanks!

WyrdSmith


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